


Chasing Midnight

by castielsstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam runs away from his father who wants him to hunt monsters like him and Dean. Dean goes after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the May 2016 Supernatural Writing Challenge. Prompt: "Catapult" by Jack Savoretti.
> 
> It was a very loose influence for this fic, but... I don't know. This was the idea that latched on when I was reading the lyrics.

Gravel and pavement is only comfortable to walk on for so long, which point Sam crossed hours before hand. Had he actually worn down the soles of his shoes since he started? It felt like they were just a meager covering without providing much protection from the sharp rocks digging into his heels and arches. Each step took more and more effort to continue. He wanted to sleep, to rest for a few moments at least, but he had to keep moving.

If he stopped, it was likely he would turn around and go back. That couldn’t happen. Leaving Dean was one of the worst things he could have done, but leaving John was necessary. They didn’t see eye to eye on anything and he knew John expected him to be a better hunter. This wasn’t the life he wanted, though. He could say it again and again, but he knew nothing was going to change unless he took control.

Another car rumbled closer—the first that had come by for a while—and Sam stuck his thumb out. Like the one he had tried before, it also blew past him without slowing or anything. Hell, had he been a bit closer to the road, it likely would have hit him. It had been since the sun started sinking behind the trees that Sam had been trying to find someone to pick him up. He wasn’t quite sure, but that was probably a couple hours ago.

Headlights rushed past, guiding him to god-knows where, but he was willing to follow blindly. It didn’t much matter where he ended up because he was still going to be far away from Dean. That was the one part he didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either get out or conform, as John said. Another car was approaching and he only gave half of an effort in sticking his thumb out. No one was going to pick him up, anyway.

Maybe once he got settled somewhere he’d call his brother. Payphone only, so they couldn’t track him as easily. The crushing feeling in his gut told him that maybe Dean wouldn’t care. Leaving was probably as good as betrayal in his brother’s eyes. The next car whose headlights flooded his path, he didn’t bother to try and flag them down. If he hurt Dean, then he deserved to hurt, too.

It took a minute before Sam realized that the lights that had come up behind him never passed. He was still able to see the stretch of gravel for at least another 100 feet in front of him and it was making him dread the farther walk. The horn honking startled him a little, but he decided that if the person was nice enough to stop without him having to hail them, then he was going to take the ride.

The headlights were all he was able to see, but that was all he needed to. They were the same ones that he’d been staring at since he could remember, but he couldn’t see passed the brightness to know who was driving her. The door clicked open and his heart dropped in the same instant as he prepared to run if it was his dad. He wasn’t going back.

“Sammy, what the fuck, man?”

“Dean.” It wasn’t a question, but the hitch in his breath made it seem so.

“Who else would be coming after your sorry ass?”

“Thought it was Dad.” Sam looked at his shoes, the tiny rocks at his feet suddenly very interesting. “You here to take me back?”

“Get in the car, we’ll go somewhere and talk.”

He shook his head. “I can’t go back to that life. I can’t kill things, even if they’re bad things!”

Dean came around the car to stand in front of him, barely taller still. “I’m not gonna make you, ok? Please, let’s just get in the car and then we’ll talk. We don’t need anyone hearing about this shit.”

“We’re on the side of a highway. Who the fuck is going to hear us?”

“Language.”

“I’m fifteen, I can say whatever.”

“Car, now,” Dean said, his voice stern.

Sam had no choice but to obey at that, but he still stomps off. He’s not helping his case any, but fuck it. If his brother’s coming here to drag him back home like a child, he might as well do it kicking and screaming, too. The passenger-side door was lighter than he expected when he wrenched it open, and it creaked on its hinges.

It didn’t take long for Dean to settle in the driver’s side. He didn’t look angry, surprisingly. More just tired. A few minutes dragged in silence before either spoke, but Dean cracked first.

“I’m not here to take you back, Sam.” He was quiet, almost respectful in tone.

“You’re… you’re not?”

He shook his head. “What kind of awful brother would I be if I _made_ you? You don’t want to kill like Dad and I, and I get that. I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to.”

“But… why are you here?”

“Coming with you.”

There was no way he heard it right. “What?”

“You’re not deaf. I’m coming with you. I’m not letting my little brother run around on his own with no money. I’d be an awful human being if I did.”

Sam chuckled and ducked his head. “I’ve got money. Swiped some from Dad’s coat when he was in the shower.”

“You little shit.”

“Don’t try and tell me you didn’t do the same thing.”

“He always leaves some in his boot.”

They both laughed, the sound soft, but it quickly dwindled to nothing. Silence pervaded again.

“Are we really doing this?” Sam couldn’t help asking.

His brother was quick to nod. “We’re just gonna go. Chasing midnight ‘til we come out the other side, or some poetic shit like that.”

“You never were good with words.”

“Like you’re any better, bitch.”

“Jerk.”


End file.
